


give me grace; bury my sins

by Zoadgo



Series: Kinktober 2018 [19]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Fingering, Masquerade Ball, Semi Public Sex, Strangers, formal wear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: That’s another upside to the masks, Clarke supposes. It’s not just that you can speak with people you wouldn’t normally, but you can do things you might not otherwise. Especially with alcohol in the mix. All around her, as the evening grows on, people get crazier and crazier. Clarke, for her part, isn’t impervious to the spirit of the night. She finds herself shamelessly ogling every attractive person who passes, and she’s about one sip of beer away from hitting on everyone.That’s when she sees her. A girl, standing at the edge of the gardens, and staring at Clarke in much the same manner as Clarke’s been staring at others. She’s wearing a suit so fine and tailored, Clarke’s mouth goes dry at the sight of her. Yes, the girls in dresses are gorgeous, but pretty girl in a suit, smiling just a little as Clarke breaks away from the party to walk towards her? There’s no way to resist that.





	give me grace; bury my sins

**Author's Note:**

> [title song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLshdZTgtLk)
> 
> today's prompt called for **formal wear**! This is super short and not that great, but it is technically finished, so yes, I'm considering it a win.
> 
> please send prayers to my beta [Etra](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com) because she's a godsend.
> 
> [tumblr](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)

Every semester, Clarke’s class has an absolutely ludicrous party after finals. The first time they’d gone on a pub crawl, but that ended with most of them being banned from way too many of the local bars. So now, each department that wants to party it up takes it in turn to host the bender to end all benders. They’ve parties at community halls, in the frat houses, and even in the middle of a forest that one time the botanists got put in charge. Sometimes there’s a theme, although usually that theme is ‘get absolutely wasted and forget about school and moral responsibilities’.

This time, though, the fashion and interior design kids went all out. They’d booked an elaborate venue, by simple virtue of asking everyone who wanted to go for five bucks, and they’d set a strict theme. Yes, there would be way too much alcohol and grotesque drunk food as always, but at least at the start of the evening, everyone would observe their rules. And everyone actually seemed keen, because they’d picked something truly delightful.

This semester’s post finals party is a masquerade ball, and Clarke is absolutely thrilled.

The ball, when Clarke arrives, is exactly as magical as she had hoped. The old manor that had been rented hardly had to be touched to make it look elegant, everyone dressed up in their best clothes served as decoration enough. It’s a little amazing, actually, that so many people dressed up to this extent. Every guy is in at least slacks and a blazer, although there are more than a decent number of full suits and tuxes on display tonight, and the girls one and all seem to have taken it upon themselves to dress to the nines, evening gowns shimmering everywhere.

Clarke fits right in, deep blue gown drifting just above the ankle. She adjusts her mask, simple black with glitter accents that are definitely going to leave sparkles on everything she touches for days, and steps into the swirl of humanity. 

It’s funny, how the flimsy masks they all wear change things. Clarke is pretty sure she knows who some of the people are, and she definitely recognizes her closest friends, but the partial anonymity means she talks to people she never would have before. Drinks flow freely, and Clarke grabs something that someone in a bird mask offers her at some point. It’s a hilarious juxtaposition, being dressed all fancy and carrying on conversations, all while drinking shitty beer from a solo cup. 

The party spills out of the building and onto the lawn before too long, because there’s simply nowhere big enough to host a school wide party even with the most flagrant disregard for fire regulations. Clarke finds herself in a group of people that she doesn’t vaguely recognize, laughing uproariously at the three people needed for one of the girls to do a kegstand, two of them simply holding her flowing dress in place at the ankles. It works, no matter how ridiculous it is, and when the girl is lowered to her feet with her dignity intact, she’s greeted with cheers like a returning war hero.

That’s another upside to the masks, Clarke supposes. It’s not just that you can speak with people you wouldn’t normally, but you can do things you might not otherwise. Especially with alcohol in the mix. All around her, as the evening grows on, people get crazier and crazier. Clarke, for her part, isn’t impervious to the spirit of the night. She finds herself shamelessly ogling every attractive person who passes, and she’s about one sip of beer away from hitting on everyone.

That’s when she sees her. A girl, standing at the edge of the gardens, and staring at Clarke in much the same manner as Clarke’s been staring at others. She’s wearing a suit so fine and tailored, Clarke’s mouth goes dry at the sight of her. Yes, the girls in dresses are gorgeous, but pretty girl in a suit, smiling just a little as Clarke breaks away from the party to walk towards her? There’s no way to resist that.

The girl turns and walks into the gardens, whisking just out of sight as Clarke approaches. Clarke follows, always a distance, the girl stopping every once in awhile just to make sure Clarke is still behind her. With the moonlight, the gardens, the dress gently flowing around her ankles, Clarke almost feels like she’s in some cheesy romance movie. A princess chasing a dashing prince, or something of the sort.

Clarke rounds one more corner, far enough away from the main building that the party sounds have faded to a dull mass rather than an overwhelming clamour, and she finds herself suddenly face to face with the girl. It’s mildly startling, but then the girl cups Clarke’s jaw gently and leans in, and any shock fades away in pure bliss as their lips meet.

She kisses Clarke like it’s just the two of them in the whole universe, like she has all the time in the world to slowly tease her. Clarke melts into it, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders and gripping her lapels. Normally, Clarke is more aggressive, especially at parties. Perhaps it’s the mindset of being in an expensive-ish dress, or maybe it’s something in her wanting to let the pretty girl in the suit to take control; whatever it is, Clarke finds herself perfectly content to just lean into the kiss and let the girl set the pace.

The hand on Clarke’s jaw shifts to caress the back of her neck, and the girl’s other hand goes to her hip. Tingles shiver under the skin there, pleasantly rippling through her. Clarke sighs as the girl runs that hand up her ribs, smoothing it over her back to mold Clarke more firmly to her.

The girl pulls away from Clarke’s mouth, grabbing her hips and walking her into a sort of alcove in the hedge, not hidden from view, but at least not directly on the path. Which, if Clarke is reading the intent in the way her hands rub over her hips correctly, Clarke is very glad for. Normally Clarke would never do more than make out with someone at a party, but, well, perhaps she can blame this too on the mask.

“My name is Lexa, by the way,” the woman - Lexa, apparently - offers, and the name sounds familiar to Clarke. It’s hard to think, with Lexa kissing her neck, but eventually she realizes where she knows it from.

“You’re the one who decided to throw the party in the woods,” Clarke announces as her brain makes the connection. Lexa stops kissing her, which is awful, but then Clarke is rewarded with the sight of Lexa blushing, looking at the ground awkwardly as she leans back.

“It was supposed to be a joke, I didn’t think they would actually-” Lexa starts to protest, but Clarke interrupts her with a gentle laugh.

“It was a great party,” Clarke rushes to assure her. Lexa looks back up at her, and Clarke leans forward, capturing her lips in another kiss. She smiles as she breaks away, “I’m Clarke.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lexa speaks the words against Clarke’s throat as she resumes her work there, kissing the sensitive skin. Clarke tilts her head back with a happy noise, entirely content to let Lexa trail warm touches over the join with her shoulder, and anywhere else she may so please.

Lexa’s hands trail idly up and down the sides of Clarke’s thighs, touch the barest tease. It’s just enough to spark the littlest bit of interest within Clarke, warmth gently flowing through her. It’s all lovely and soft, oddly so for a hookup, but Clarke is not complaining in the slightest. She toys with the braids in Lexa’s hair, allowing the slow pleasure to build on itself, fueling a gentle urgency.

Clarke almost whimpers when Lexa begins to ruck her dress up, gathering the light fabric between her fingers. This too, is tantalizingly slow, but it is stimulation in and of itself. The fabric of the gown is incredibly soft, and as it’s dragged over Clarke’s freshly shaved legs, it sends thrills racing through her. Clarke breathes a little heavier in the cool night air as the hem crests above her knees.

“Lexa,” Clarke breathes her name, and Lexa returns her lips to Clarke’s, devouring the noises Clarke makes as she shifts the dress up to her waist.

Clarke moans into the kiss as Lexa drags two fingers over the crotch of Clarke’s thong, pressing hard enough to send a spike of pleasure through her. Clarke barely resists the urge to grind into the touch, grip clenching on the lapels of Lexa’s suit as she’s thoroughly teased. Lexa kisses the hollow behind Clarke’s jaw, and on the next pass of her fingers, she keeps dragging them up, to the waistband of Clarke’s underwear.

Lexa’s hand delves under that final fabric barrier, and Clarke’s breath catches in her throat at the touch of skin where she aches for it. It had felt good before, but when Lexa drags her fingers through Clarke’s folds, it sends little sparks racing through her. It’s like a killer itch being scratched, and Clarke shivers delightfully. Lexa makes little shushing noises as she circles her fingers around Clarke’s clit, as if that will do anything to calm the storm she’s building within Clarke.

Clarke whimpers when Lexa’s touch shifts away from her clit for a few more long strokes up the center of her. She aches and needs, but she doesn’t feel demanding. No, Lexa seems to be spot on with giving Clarke exactly what she wants, just a little slower and softer than Clarke might normally get it. 

Lexa sinks her fingers into Clarke, passage eased by Clarke’s arousal, and Clarke can’t help the way her hips roll into that. It fills the ache within her, giving her something to clench around. Clarke sighs happily, especially as Lexa moves her fingers, curling them within her. Her movements are slow, but deliberate; she seems to know exactly how to touch Clarke to make her feel phenomenal.

Every curl of Lexa’s fingers fuels the growing heat in Clarke’s belly, the impending force of her orgasm. It would take her awhile to get there with just Lexa’s fingers inside of her, especially if Lexa keeps up the teasing pace, but she has no doubt she could, and it would be intense for that buildup. Just as Clarke is coming around to the idea, Lexa shifts her thumb to rub at Clarke’s clit, and okay, maybe that climax isn’t as far off as she’d thought.

Clarke whines as she grinds into Lexa’s hand, no longer quite so patient now that she’s being stimulated inside and out. Lexa, for her part, chuckles and increases the pace, spurring Clarke on. Clarke is thankful for the mask, and for the fact that only Lexa knows who she is for sure at this party; if anyone comes along the path right now, there’s no way in hell she’s stopping.

Clarke bears down on Lexa’s fingers as her pleasure crests, clenching in time with the waves of tingling bliss. Lexa slows the pace again, firmly fucking Clarke through it and drawing the most possible from her orgasm. Clarke whimpers as the last of it fades, feeling greedy for more but also feeling like she’s already risked enough given their current location. It’s only because of that fact that she doesn’t complain when Lexa removes her hand, setting Clarke’s thong and dress back to rights.

In the dim light of the moon, Clarke watches, entranced as Lexa raises her hand to her mouth and methodically licks the remnants of Clarke’s arousal from her fingers. Clarke can feel herself blushing, the image so explicitly sexual, despite what they just did. Lexa gives her a wicked smile, accentuated by her emerald mask, before stepping back with a ridiculous bow.

“I’ll see you around, Clarke,” Lexa says, before turning and disappearing back into the gardens.

“You’re damn right you will,” Clarke vows. Next time - and there will be a next time, Clarke will make sure of that - they certainly won’t be stopping after one orgasm between the two of them.


End file.
